Her Majesty, his Lady
by Nat D
Summary: Robin Hood likes to look at the Queen. Very, very much. [One shot, very short. Almost M, but not quite. Outlaw Queen all the way]


**Born out of those vault scenes, of course. The way he looked at her there struck me like so much more than only good old "True Love". They seem to have more depth. Less innocent, more life and history to their own stories until their paths crossed. They're wonderfully complicated, and I love that. **

**Hopefully this will please you. I would love to know.**

**I'm not sure _when _this is set. Maybe it's right there in the vault, maybe it's after the library scene, maybe it's a long time after that. I'm not sure. You can decide on the time line that pleases you. **

**Please forgive any mistakes and typos. If it is something unbearable to look at, point 'em to me. I'd be happy to have more than a conversation ;-) **

**Otherwise, please enjoy.**

**Nat'**

**Disclaimer: Not at all mine. And good, because I'm sure I would ruin them. **

Evil or not, Regina was born to be a Queen, he was more and more sure of it everyday.

Robin loved looking at her. Always had, since the first time he had had a glimpse of her, all those years ago, while jumping from a high wall after emptying the manor of the occasion from it's riches. She had looked so fierce back then, with her gown and hair and so many jewels. A Queen if he ever saw one. He loved looking at her in Storybrooke, while she walked around looking for a way to finish the Wicked Witch. Soon he found out he loved kissing her, too. Loved the way her hair fell to her face, or how full her lips looked right after he was done kissing them, wiping away all the bright colors he usually found there.

But he did love looking.

And this, this was so rare he was afraid to move, wake her and end this silent, blissful moment where he got to watch his queen sleep.

Because she _was _his Queen. Always has been, in a way, like she was everyone's Queen back home in the Enchanted Forest, but now she was his own, personal Queen. To hold, to kiss, to love, to press to him. His job to make her laugh and sigh and smile and his very own pleasure to see her in that way that was so private. So his and hers. His to look at.

And even while asleep, she was such a royal it almost made him laugh out loud. The way she placed her limbs under and over pillows and covers, the way her hair fell so gracefully it was like someone had carefully arranged it, and the way she made it seem like the bed was doing it's best to hold her the most comfortable way possible.

His bold, audacious, commanding, seductive, royal Queen, even when unconscious.

Getting up from where he sat before the bed, he walked silently to her and pressed his knee right by her hip, grimacing in fear of waking her when she moaned and moved to lay on her side, her back to him, her legs stretching over the mattress and bending at the knee, her foot arched like she was about to put on shoes.

How is it possible to look so royal while asleep?

She was wearing on of those nice pajamas he liked to run his hands over, the silk ones. Just a long sleeved top – the bottom forgotten when he had distracted her from putting it on the night before. Her legs bare and glorious for his eyes to feast.

With one knee perched on the bed, her back to him, he used his fore and middle fingers to grasp some of the fabric and run it up – just a little -

And there it is.

That bottom, that incredible bottom of hers that he spent a quite frankly ridiculous amount of time thinking about. Round and firm and so, so, incredibly taunting.

That bottom used to mock him in the Enchanted Forest. When he would watch her walk away in those tight dresses, or bend over to talk to Roland or any other reason, or even just stand there. That royal bottom of hers would stare at him and say "Not for you, thief."

He relished in the fact that now it was _yes, for yo__u_.

Grazing one fingertip over the smooth and warm skin, Robin felt the curves he adored. Once, twice, three, four times.

"Stop caressing my ass", came her sleepy voice, muffled from the pillow.

He smiled and bit his bottom lip, his hand getting bolder now, palm flattening on her flesh and squeezing lightly.

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

She moved again, now lying flat on her stomach, that silk shirt riding up and revealing this tiny piece of fabric that could not possibly be considered an under garment, since it did not cover anything. Regina's glorious behind was there full on display for him.

"Why are you up?" She asked, almost whining.

"Do you prefer me lying down, my Queen?" He asked, his left hand working pressure on the back of her left thigh, sliding up to squeeze at the hearty flesh he was admiring a few moments earlier.

The moan he got in response, and the movement that thrust her beautiful, beautiful arse further into his hand was answer enough, really.

Swinging one leg over her body, he sat there on her legs. Both hands now massaging and squeezing and groping.

He was groping the Queen.

He, Robin of Locksley, thief, was groping, eagerly, the Queen's buttocks. And she was moaning under him.

"I was sleeping!" She said, turning her head to look at him and _oh, __sweet heavens__. _

She looked so fresh. Her hair falling on her face in arcs there were too beautiful to not be magical, her lips were still so very puffed from sleep and hard kisses and nibbles he had worked on them a few hours earlier, her eyes heavy with sleep.

He had loved his Queen very well.

Squirming, she twisted and turned until she was lying on her back, still under him. Upon finding his eyes intent on her face – after admiring the way her body curved beneath the silk – she pressed her lips together and swallowed.

"What?" came her whisper.

"I adore you", was his automatic answer.

She smiled as if he had told a joke, and he would have none of that. Bringing his hands to her waist and up, and down, over belly and ribs and hips, he repeated, "I adore you, I simply adore you."

She bit her bottom lip and touched his arms.

"I don't want you to _adore_ me."

He knew she didn't want to be the Evil Queen anymore. She wasn't even Mayor anymore (even though she walked in and out of Snow White's office like she still owned the place), and he knew she worried about him seeing her as the woman who had his face painted on 'Wanted' signs.

"Too bad, because I do."

He lowered his face to her navel and planted a kiss to her belly. "I adore every part of you, Regina."

A kiss over her ribs and the little chuckle he heard confirmed what he already knew: Her Majesty is slightly ticklish. But he continued up and ran his nose and lips on the skin between her breasts – another part oh her anatomy that used to send his mind reeling on a regular basis.

Her hands were on his back now. He was lying over her body – he knew she liked his weight on top of her. One of her feet was intertwining itself with one of his legs while she worked his shirt up and off him, his head quickly returning to the spot it had found on her collarbone and neck, whispering his adoration in her ear.

"I am so completely, undeniably, hopelessly in love with you, my Queen."

He felt her swallowing and her arms closed themselves around him.

He paused for a moment, raising his left hand from where it was squeezing her hip to her hair, the other grasping one of her own hands and locking their fingers together over her head, pressing into the mattress. His lips found her face and he used them to feel the skin of her cheeks, chin and luscious lips, until his forehead met hers and he froze on top of her once again.

"I love falling asleep next to you."

She barely moved under him. The one hand she had free was stationary, clutching the arm that was raised so he could caress her hair, only her fingers moving slightly, nails running along his skin.

"I love feeling you pressed against me when I wake up. And I love looking at you, Regina. I love watching the way you move, because you're perfect. You are perfection in every little movement, and sometimes I swear that you are a creation of my imagination, because you are too good to be true, you are too good to be mine."

He was moving again, hand lowering from her hair, thumb quickly pulling on that lip before being replaced by his own lips and teeth, descending to neck, breasts and clutching silk, fingers undoing buttons and moving fabric away from soft skin, revealing planes of hard and soft and smooth flesh.

His other hand let go of the one he was holding over her head to help liberate shoulders from her pajama, while his left curled around that poor excuse for underwear and slid it down her legs, her own hand working on the trousers he had on.

"You are my perfect, perfect Queen, Regina, and I cannot bear the thought of not having you."

She was sighing and moving under him, around him, and even then, she was his natural phenomenon, his magical miracle, hypnotic beauty that had his mind spiraling out of control.

His Queen is everything.

Even those sounds she made that were just his, only his, only theirs, managed to make him want to bow down and recognize her crown.

"I cannot be without you anymore, Regina."

"You have me", she whispered, her head thrown back and her neck just there, ready for his lips. He grunted at her words and pressed harder against her, slowly, savoring her, worshiping, tasting and feeling, trying to imprint every part of her to him, brand her to his skin like the lion on his wrist.

"MyQueen."

"Yes."

"_My _Queen."

"Yours."

And if she weren't, he would have stolen her.


End file.
